


Lay (All Your Love on Me)

by GrimLegate



Series: Love Songs [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, The Warrior of Light is just a man of simple pleasures, These Two are Ridiculously in Love, This includes trapping his boyfriend with cuddles, mention of marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 15:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30057909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimLegate/pseuds/GrimLegate
Summary: He supposed that everyone in Eorzea knew that it was, indeed, a crime to wake a sleeping feline.He was, however, slightly uncertain of where exactly that line might end.Aymeric never learns, and Rhitaas traps him with cuddles to put him off from leaving for work. Aymeric supposes that there's far worse ways to be waylaid.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Series: Love Songs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2211276
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Lay (All Your Love on Me)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm alive! I promise! I'm definitely hoping to getting around to posting more here. The series this is going under is going to be a collection of Rhitaas and Aymeric's relationship at different moments! The Requiems for Tomorrow series is going to undergo a huge overhaul, because since I started writing Rhitaas he has changed immensely, and practically none of those stories fit Rhitaas any longer. I do have another fic planned for Rhitaas with snippets from his life, but for the time being I have relationship building and domestic cuteness for you all! If there is something you'd like to see between these two, drop a comment!

He supposed that everyone in Eorzea knew that it was, indeed, a crime to wake a sleeping feline.

He was, however, slightly uncertain of where _exactly_ that line might end.

He had already managed to pry himself out of his beloved’s hold once, Aymeric having to swiftly extricate himself from the other in the morning lest he find himself snuggled into a veritable death trap of blankets and man. Every morning they completed this ritual, Rhitaas begging from under the covers for Aymeric not to leave him to the blustering cold that would seep in with the dying fireplace. Oh, and what a cruel, talented actor, because it broke his heart every time to pull himself away from the warmth of the other’s embrace.

He could not even lean in for a kiss good-bye, for he had learned one unfortunate morning that Rhitaas was _well_ enough awake to pull him back into the bed, and there was little that Aymeric could do to stop him if he were ensnared.

To put it lightly, he believed Rhitaas was more limpet than cat.

Now, of course he felt bad for having to leave Rhitaas to the tender mercies of a few solitary hours, but he was not _cruel_. He would snatch away little moments to do something for the other before he would leave for work, and this morning had been no different. He had to attend meetings later in the morning, so the two of them managed to snatch away a few more blissful hours before Aymeric would have to be subjected to the desire to strangle every noble within the House of Lords.

A simple breakfast, one that he had to admit his servants had done most of the work on, but a few added flavors and scents was enough to drag Rhitaas from their shared bed, donned in one of Aymeric’s large tunics. Rhitaas easily snuck up behind him, coiling his arms around Aymeric’s midriff, pressing tired, lazy kisses to the elezen’s shoulder.

Thankfully, with the promise of food, Rhitaas saw fit not to manhandle him back to their mattress, content to doze against Aymeric, purring and flicking the tip of his tail while the other worked on coaxing their breakfast back to life. It had been a swift affair, Rhitaas’ eyes still widely dilated, his chest rumbling with purrs as he forked more of his breakfast into his mouth.

Aymeric had wondered for a long while what the source of Rhitaas’ exhaustion might have been. After all, during the glimpses he caught of the other while he was dealing with Eorzea’s newest calamity, the man seemed to be an endless font of energy, marching on to his next goal with nary a span of breath in-between. But that had simply been another piece of the unfortunate puzzle that had been his habit of lionizing the man.

The simple fact of the matter was, here? Rhitaas was just another miqo’te.

A miqo’te who enjoyed the simplest of luxuries, like a proper bath with shampoo and soap, warm meals with uncured ingredients, _and_ sleeping in a bed with pillows and comforters, instead of snatching what winks of sleep he could upon chocobo-back. The Warrior of Light marched on because no one else could, because he had to seem like an unstoppable force to every enemy and ally.

Rhitaas Vaas slept in during the mornings and gnashed his teeth about being up at an even semi-decent hour. He strongly disliked hardtack, much preferring the searing hot, honey-buttered loaves that Aymeric would bring back as an apology for leaving so early in the morning. He bathed in the scents of La Noscean oranges, lime basil, and cognac lees, taking great care to brush out the fur of his ears and tail. He was someone who had spent the last five years of his life with nary a breath to spend between this adventure and the next, and finally, with some room to breathe?

He was intent on soaking it all in.

Rhitaas insisted on washing their dishes, and Aymeric teased the man, saying that his poor servants were going to struggle to find something to do to earn their keep. It was the same back-and-forth joke that they indulged in. The staff of House Borel absolutely adored the Warrior of Light, but the two groups often found themselves at odds; one trying to aide in any way they could, and the other having become perfectly used to the idea of taking care of everything himself.

It had required a bit of diplomacy on his part, but eventually everyone got their way. Rhitaas could insist on chores he would preform himself, allowing him the feeling of self-sufficiency, while also feeling capable of relying on the staff.

Aymeric had picked his way over to the small lounging, living area, kicking his feet up onto the couch and picking up the discarded book he had left out here the night prior when Rhitaas had announced it was bedtime. He glanced up at the chronometer, content to wile a short time away before getting up and ready for the day. He heard shuffling behind him, and for a moment some naïve part of him assumed Rhitaas was returning to bed as he was wont to do, but the shuffling came closer and closer, before stilling.

Aymeric glanced over his shoulder, assuming he would find his lover’s patient, pouting face, wanting some sort of pittance for his early wakefulness, more than likely in the form of kisses. But, as he turned, Rhitaas had hiked his leg up over the edge of the couch and tumbled onto his lap. Rhitaas’ sharp elbows dug into Aymeric’s stomach, and conversely, his knees poked into Rhitaas’ belly. The pair grunted and cursed until Aymeric felt Rhitaas’ grip settle around his midsection, and he tried to shove and disentangle himself, but the miqo’te’s arms flexed, and Aymeric swore, looking down at his far-too smug lover. And that brought them to now, Aymeric’s stomach aching in protest, and the book in his hands long forgotten.

“You are a menace.”

“Can’t hear you.” Rhitaas countered over the thick sound of his purring. The tip of his tail flicked back and forth against Aymeric’s leg, and for as put off he was at Rhitaas getting the drop on him once more, he couldn’t deny how much he adored his lover at rest. The sleepy blinks that Rhitaas gave him compelled him to set his book down, forgotten as he reached to gently card his fingers through Rhit’s hair, teasing the spot behind his ear that he knew turned the man into putty.

“Come up here, love.” Rhitaas chirruped curiously, settling up on his arms as Aymeric gently coaxed him up, cupping his face. They met somewhere in the middle, lips pressed together, and Aymeric giggled, tickled by Rhitaas’ near constant purring. Aymeric continued to press kisses against the other’s face, dusting them over his beloved’s forehead, nose, cheeks, and finally returning to his lips, Rhitaas’ laugh rumbling up between each.

Aymeric kept his touch light while Rhitaas lowered himself, gently stroking his fingers along the other’s face, and through his hair line. Aymeric couldn’t even be angry at the other for ensnaring him, every moment like this made him mourn having to leave. He would give everything to this man, and that included indulging in these moments snatched away from the world until it called upon them once again.

Aymeric shushed his lover’s grousing as he slid himself down the couch, the man perking up immediately as he shuffled up to rest his head on Aymeric’s chest. Rhitaas loved to lay with his head over Aymeric’s heart, listening to the steady beat soothe him, and drawing him further into sleep. Aymeric couldn’t help but stare, stroking through the fine locks.

He remembers looking upon Rhitaas’ sleeping form in the same way when the other was rescued from Zenos (not Zenos, apparently, he is still unsure of that situation), laying in the chirurgeon’s bed. He had only stepped away when absolutely necessary, he hadn’t wanted the man to wake up alone, unsure after he had fell unconscious on the battlefield.

He remembers the night of their first true date, before they had even entertained the idea of a relationship proper. The way the other cleaned up from when he had seen him hard at work in the Firmament, smiling and waving in a way that stopped his heart dead in his chest. The confidence in his stare when Aymeric had tried to coyly convince the other to make these dinner dates a regular thing, and Rhitaas took a deep breath, telling him they needed to have a rather adult conversation about the two of them, and their relationship (or what it would turn in to.)

He remembers the first time that Rhitaas had stayed the night, rather than returning to the Fortemps manor. Both had danced around one another for the first bit, trying to give one another space as they went about their nightly ablutions. Rhitaas creeping into his (their) bedroom, sheepishly admitting that he may have jumped the chocobo and left his sleepwear at the manor. The image of Rhitaas wearing one of his oversized tunics was burned into his mind (not that he needed it, Rhitaas would be hard-pressed to sleep in anything else these days.) And once the pair had settled for the night, Aymeric barely slept, watching Rhitaas’ sleeping face.

The Fury must have marked him as one of the luckiest men on this star, to have the pleasure of receiving the other man’s love. He wouldn’t trade this for the world, and a strange calm fell over him. He had grown up his entire life being scorned because of his lineage, even despite his attractiveness, no one would get wrapped up with him for anything more than a tumble in the sheets. His propensity towards men was also another black mark against him. He had been prepared to stay married to his desk and Ishgard as a whole, no matter how the Temple Knights would look between him and Lucia.

He could spend the rest of his life with the man before him. It was the first time in his life that he felt that it was a real possibility. His hand paused in it’s stroking as the reality settled over him, and his eyes softened. He _wanted_ to spend the rest of his life with Rhitaas. It had only been a handful of months, and yet he couldn’t imagine his life without… _this._ Waking up to his sleepy, dopey smile in the mornings, the brief kisses goodbye and being lavished in attention once he had returned. Rhitaas stealing away several of his shirts to sleep in when he thought Aymeric wasn’t looking.

Rhitaas shuffled atop him, and Aymeric’s hand resumed stroking through his hair, and the man settled with a soft sigh. Aymeric smiled to himself, kissing the crown of the other’s head. Yeah, this was something he could see himself doing for the rest of his life. He wondered idly if the late Lady Borel’s ring was kept within the home. He yawned softly, Rhitaas’ purring a balm that sank him lower and lower into sleep. His eyes fluttered shut, thinking on how he could get the man’s ring size with him being none the wiser. Sleep creeped over him, and the last thought he could remember before it fully took hold, was what kind of ring would be the best to propose to the man with, in the first place. He felt more at peace than he had in a long time, work and the House of Lords the furthest thing from his mind as Rhitaas’ purrs filled his dreams…

Of course, until Lucia arrived to chase him out of the house.


End file.
